Page 33 of Chaotic Curse
George Tucker runs a drywall business in an Austin suburb, and his personal cell number is on the website.So is his photo.He has gray hair, but the resemblance is unmistakable.He looks a lot like Ted.
I call the number.
“Yeah, George here,” he says.
“Hi, my name is…Frank Dirkwood, and I’m looking for George Tucker.”
“That would be me.”
“I was wondering,” I say, “did you have another brother who died a few years ago?”
“If you call fifteen years a few,” he says.“Sorry, sir, but are you interested in some drywall?”
“Yeah, I can always use some good drywall,” I say.“I’m happy to give you any job here on my ranch.”
“A ranch?Great.Which one?”
I clear my throat.“Bellamy Ranch.I’m a foreman there.”
“Bellamy Ranch,” he says.“I’ll be damned.”
“Yeah, I promise you that you’ll have more work that you can ever get done, but I need something from you in return.”
“All I can give you in return is the best damned drywall service you’ve ever had.”
“I’m sure you can give me that, but what I also need is to learn about your middle brother.”
I’m not sure what I should say.There is no statute of limitations on murder, and if I tell George that Ted died by my father’s hand in his office, I’ll be throwing him under the bus.My father, who can barely string two words together in his own defense.
“What do you need to know?It was a long time ago.”
“I’m trying to figure out a little more about his death.”
“Why?He was shot in a barroom brawl,” George says.
So that’s the story my father concocted.Can’t say it’s very original.I clear my throat.“Yes, I know.”
“Which was really bizarre,” George says.
“Yes,” I say hesitantly, “it was.”
“Because normally Ted never went near bars.He didn’t like alcohol.”
“And that’s why I’m looking into this,” I say.“I knew him a while ago, and I’ve been…” I clear my throat again, thinking.“Looking into some true crime stuff lately.You know, a hobby.Ranch work gets pretty tedious sometimes.”
He chuckles.“So does drywall.I get it.”
“Right, and I got to thinking about Ted.About how he up and disappeared one day.”
“Uh…how exactly did you know Ted?”
“We were friends,” is all I can think to say.
A pause.“Were you?”
“Yeah.We…uh…we met at the gathering of a mutual friend once and shared a game of Monopoly.Turns out we both had a love for the game and we played regularly for a while.”
“Damn,” George says.“He did love that game.We used to play as kids.”
